


After the Fall

by occasionalgnome



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Returns after Reichenbach, back on my sherlock bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23992069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionalgnome/pseuds/occasionalgnome
Summary: [SPOILERS FOR SHERLOCK HOLMES: GAME OF SHADOWS]The last time John saw Sherlock was as he was going over the falls. That was months ago.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 91





	After the Fall

When I first saw him, I thought it must be a dream.

Seeing how many nightmares I’d had in the past months—watching him go over the falls again and again—I assumed God was giving me a well-deserved respite. It wasn’t until I laid my hands on him that I realized he was honest-to-goodness flesh and blood. I gripped his shoulders as the doubt rushed out of me all at once. Finally, I pulled him in and held him as tightly as I could, terrified that if I let go even for a second, I would lose him again. He went entirely stiff, then after a few moments, I felt a hesitant hand on my back.

“Always good to see you, Watson.” He spoke softly in my ear, almost unguarded, but still attempting to keep up his ever stoic demeanor.

“Where have you been, you selfish bastard?”

“Ah, now that’s more the welcome I was expecting.”

Ignoring the emotional elephant in the room, he proceeded to explain (in great and unnecessary detail) exactly what had happened, where he’d been, and why he’d finally shown back up. Unfortunately, he also made me promise never to put what he said into writing, which didn’t surprise me in the least. He’d always had a flair for the dramatic, and it made sense he’d want the greatest mystery about him to remain just that. No doubt he would delight in the many rumors and theories that would pop up in the months after his reappearance. I will admit though, even if I were allowed to recount his tales, I might not have been able. I spent most of the time he was blathering on just enjoying his presence, and remembering how easy it was to get lost in wonder of his character.

It was while he was chattering away that my mind began to slip, wandering of its own accord back to the last time I had seen him. 

His eyes locked onto mine, and a second later, he was gone. I could feel myself beginning to spiral, when a sudden firm hand clapped me on the shoulder and shook me out of it. I looked up to see Holmes still bloviating flamboyantly, completely unaware of my absence from the conversation.

It was then that I was overcome with a sudden and assured need to tell him what I never had a chance to admit all that time ago, what I hadn’t realized until it was far too late.

“Holmes—”

He continued on, not even acknowledging the interruption.

“Holmes, there’s something I have to—”

“Not now, dear boy, I’m just getting to the best part! Then the man with the crooked tooth, who by the way, was most definitely having an affair with his secretary—”

“Dammit man, I’m trying to tell you that I love you!”

“I—um,” he stuttered, abruptly coming to a full stop. “Explain.”

“I’m not sure what there could possibly be to explain there.”

“I—you—um.” He continued to mumble a series of non-words until I finally spoke up again.

“It took me a long time to realize, and even longer to come to terms with. You are a complete ass, after all.” He scoffed incredulously. “But for some reason, I love you, Sherlock Holmes.”

“...As a friend?”

I rolled my eyes. “No.”

“As a brother?”

“No.”

“So,” he started, swallowing so hard it practically looked painful. “You mean…”

“I’m in love with you.”

“Ah.”

We sat in silence for an unbearably long time, but the fear I felt couldn’t compare to the relief. I had missed my chance once, and I wasn’t going to do it again. Still, the tension was beginning to prey on my mind.

“Say something, man.”

“Watson, don’t you think that’s a little, um.” He cleared his throat. “Inappropriate?”

“Why? I’m sure you know Mary and I divorced.”

“Yes, of course, that was clear, but—”

“If you tell me you don’t feel the same, we can forget this ever happened. But that’s not true, is it?”

He cleared his throat a few more times, shuffling uncomfortably. “What would make you think that?”

“You were the one who taught me how to read people. The way you won’t look into my eyes, the way your hand trembles…” I covered his hand with my own and leaned in close, our lips just inches apart. “The way your breath catches when I get too close? I know you, Sherlock.”

I paused, almost relishing in the way he squirmed. “What are you afraid of?”

He moved suddenly, breaking away and turning his back toward me, feigning indifference.

“Afraid? I’m not afraid of anything. I’m Sherlock Holmes.”

“And you’ve faced the greatest minds in the world, but you’ve never had the bravery to face your own. You’re a coward.”

He hesitates, then abruptly spins around to face me. “Fine. You want to know what I’m afraid of? I’m afraid the second I admit I care about you anymore than is already obvious, I put you in ever greater danger than before. I’m afraid the second I admit even to myself that I might feel the same way, I’ll be completely paralyzed with the fear of losing you for the rest of my life.”

I sit, stunned, letting his words wash over me. But only a few seconds later, I can’t stop the words from spilling out, angry and unrestrained. “You? Afraid of losing me? I watched you die, Sherlock! Twice! I went to your funeral!”

“To be fair, I didn’t actually die either time. Or at least, I didn’t stay dead. And while we’re on the subject, I’d like to point out that I did throw myself over a waterfall so that you and your wife could live out your happily ever after, and I don’t appreciate you divorcing her so quickly.”

“Sherlock,” I said pointedly. “You’re an idiot.”

“And that’s another thing, it’s strange hearing you call me by my first name so often. You usually stick to ‘Holmes,’ plain and simple. Probably an attempt to increase the intimacy of the situation, perhaps unknowingly.”

“Stop trying to change the subject! I know you have feelings for me, and I’m not letting you get away without admitting it.”

“Why waste time trying to get someone to admit something that you already know? It seems redundant.”

“You know what? You’re right,” I said coolly.

He stopped, caught off guard. “I am?”

“You always are. I guess we’re done here, then. I’ll see you around?” I picked up my hat and coat, moving toward the door.

“Wait, you’re leaving? Just like that?”

“Why? Was there anything else?

“I… suppose not.”

“Right then.” I opened the door, pausing a moment to look back. “Night, _Holmes._ ”

I got barely a step through the frame before a determined grip pulled me back. The door slammed shut and suddenly I was pinned up against it. He kept one hand wrapped around my wrist and clutched my lapel with the other, staring intently into my eyes. Then I was kissing him.

It was rushed and purposeful at first, but after a moment it melted into a kiss so soft and loving that it cleared any remaining doubt of his feelings from my mind. Still, I wanted to hear him say it. When we parted, I took a moment to catch my breath, eyes still closed. Then I looked at him, a feigned confusion on my face.

“Explain.”

A wild grin cracked across my face as he gave me a gentle flick on the nose.

“I love you, John Watson. Heaven knows why.”


End file.
